Claustrophobia
by Lucyh95
Summary: Tag to 13x21. Dean had thought there would be no more room for feelings. That he would feel nothing but the numbness that had settled in every fiber of his being. Maybe for ever. Spoilers!


AN: Hello there! This fanfic is not beta'd, all the mistakes are mine. (English is not my first language.)

This episode was brutal, Sam's death scene? OMG. And so many more brilliant (brutal and chilling) scenes in this episode. I couldn't resist writing this piece.

Hope you enjoy!

Update: I made a few changes and corrected a few spelling errors.

* * *

Suddenly they are everywhere, the vampires. He goes into fighting mode, training and instinct taking over, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He fights, screams echoing in his ears.

All of a sudden both of his arms are grabbed in an iron grip, and for a moment panic runs through his body like fire. He hears Dean desperately calling out his name and a hot pain pierces through his whole body, the source coming from his neck.

Instantly he knows it's over. Done. With the few precious seconds he has left, he calls out for his brother, the one who matters the most to him, the one who is first of all his big brother, but who also had been his father, his mother, his teacher. The one who is— _and will always be_ his protector, his home, his _everything_.

In the very last moments of his life, he clings to the thought of his big brother. There is no room for anything else but _Dean_. Moments of his life flash before his eyes and his brother's wild grin is the last thing he sees.

Then, everything fades to black.

000

Dean had thought there would be no more room for feelings. That he would feel nothing but the numbness that had settled in every fiber of his being. Maybe forever. But when Mary suddenly appears, there is still more room, apparently. A wave of shock runs through his body at seeing his mom, alive. It runs through him like electricity. When she finally turns his way and sees him her astonishment mix with relief. The look on her face, seeing her alive and well, makes his breath stop for a moment.

Then suddenly his legs are moving, he has no control over them, and they take large steps toward her.

She asks him something, but he can't figure out what. He feels like he's underwater. Everything, _every movement_ , feels dull and slow, and every breath he takes feels like a struggle.

Then they are embracing each other, he can smell her, a mingle of soil and sweat and blood and undoubtedly, _his mother_. He's surprised he's still capable of that seemingly easy task.

She pulls back, and asks another question, and this time he comprehends every letter of it. It felt like an eternity before she finally asks him that question. It felt like an eternity, too long. But still too soon.

He can only stare at her while she waits for his answer. But he can't form the words, instead the world begins to blur around him and fades to ugly grey smears, his mom's worried face swimming in an out of focus. He hadn't thought he had it in him to cry, hadn't thought he had enough room for that, but apparently he has and the tears spill over, trailing down his cold cheeks, streaking through the dirt.

Somewhere deep down he wants to scream, wants to tear this whole place apart, but he can only stare at his mother's face. He can't say anything. There are no words for this.

Not ever.

000

He comes to, gasping, desperately trying to get some air into his starving lungs. His hand shoots up to his neck, muddled mind somehow screaming about a gaping wound there. But when his fingers touch the skin, there is nothing. Not even a scrape. Only filth and something sticky. _Blood_.

His mind filters back. Memories full of confusion, pain and horror slamming into him. _Dean._

He looks around, the place is dark and filthy, the only light source disturbed by a circulating fan that fills the air with creaking noises and casts large shadows on the ground. It sends a shiver down his spine. _Creepy_.

He has enough, and with a groan, he hoists himself up till he is standing on his shaky feet.

He has to get away from here. He can't comprehend what has happened, how he is alive. But one thing is clear, he has to get away from this place and get to Dean as soon as possible and as fast as his weary body allows him.

He turns. "Boo," says Lucifer, grinning, face cast in the eerie pale light of a flashlight. A sound of protest rips itself out of his dry, raw ragged throat, but he already knows: it's too late.

000

When Dean's eyes catch sight of his brother he first can't believe it. He wants to, he wants to so bad that it hurts. The pain that courses through his body for a moment is unbearable.

But Sam doesn't disappear, doesn't evaporate into thin air. His brother is there, alive, taking weary steps forward. His face is pale and dried blood is coating his face and neck. Torn, bloody clothes plastered to his skin.

A watery smile appears briefly, full of relief, but then disappears quickly when a shadow dooms up behind him. _Lucifer._

Sam closes his eyes and looks down. _Shame, humiliation, and defeat_. It surrounds his brother. The horror that Sam radiates clouds the air. Dean can feel it suffocate him where he is standing, and he is 20 feet away.

For a moment time seems frozen. Then Lucifer's voice pierces through the silence like lightning.

"Hello, son."


End file.
